Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1887-03-05

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Ak Full Of Storm and terror.
Death b Mke tho deep, warm sand
Pleasant when We come to land,
Covering up with tender hand
The waves drifted error.
Life's q tortured, booming gurge
Winds Of passion strike and urge.
And transmute to broken surge
Foam crests Of ambition.
Deaths . couch of golden ground,
Warm, soft, permeable mound,
Where from even memory's sound
We shall have remission.
Michael Field in The Academy.
SAUNDERS WIFE.
The naples stood motionless like clumps
Of gold, in the mellow autumn haze, and
the bare brown field, where it dipped with
q following bend to the black pine woods,
was frinccd with a crimson hue of sumach
and G Iaostlel hedge Of fiery blackberry
bushes ind plumes of golden red glowing in
between.
From the open door of the kitchen the
path stretched away to the high rail fence
hat hcmned in the vegetable garden, the
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pans glittered on the walls, bright as tho
day outside. Due to Viney's nimble fingers
all this ncatness and polish poor little
brown, spare thing, they had laden her with
the stately ann of Lavinia, albeit soon
corrupted into tho more twangsome
'Viney). Not old Saunders second wife
would it be who would take all that trouble
securing and Frightening. See her stand
ing now with a watchful eye to tho back of
tho house and a watchful ear for the front,
whence no sound comes, her fine brown
arms less brawny, because less hard worked,
than those of her class, loosely twisted in
her ruff1ed apron, and the color warm in
her audacious cheeks.
A deft throw Of a pebble, neatly aimed
against the fence, and then q head appears
over the top of it and a man drops down
on the inner side; jumping clear of old
Saunders cabbage heads.
Saunders wife stands still as the man
saunters up and stops within a foot of her,
glancing round the corner to the front of
the house.
"They're all out, - she says. Islanders
Is gone to the cider press over to Deane's
and Laviney's somewhere else."
"Never mind where" laughs the fellow.
When 'Viney comes back she finds Joe
sitting in the parlor. At sight of him her
small. pinched face gets red, and from red
to sallow again.
'I've been waitin' for you, - he says.
"Waitin' for me:"' 'Viney is overcome
with c~onfusion-not at the words alone, but
at the look of his bold, blue eyes. How tall
and big he seems, towering there before
her. 'Viney finds her ideas all DESERVING
her. She can only %autter, "Where's Till?"
81 don't care about Till, - lies the man.
"And he has got 'Viney's meager hand in
his somehow. And 'Viney hears a great
rushing in her ears and her heart thumps up
into her throat, and it flashes through her
poor inexperienced little brain that she will
faint from too much happiness, when she is
conscious of her head lying firmly supported
against the broad front of Joe's rough
coat. OF course, in these conditions, she
cannot look up into his face.
And for the sublimity Of her bliss at that
moment it is just as well.
"You will tell the old man, - he says, thus
respectfully abiding to her father.
eyes, says 'Viney, seeing no disrespect,
felicity and embarrassment.
Till is STOPPING among the late geraniums
by the front gate when he passes by. With.
w 40944E LIZ AC0A4
"Well?" she asks.
II done it." he returns, screwing his
mouth into something between a laugh
and a sneer and a grimace of disgust.
He is going down the lane and Till is lean
ing over the gate with q red spray of geran-
ium in her black hair and the glow of the
sunset on her face, when old Saunders
comes up from the opposite direction.
"What's that loafer dom here?' he
cries, scowling from his wife to tho retreat
ing figure, with flashes of evil fire from
under his gray, overhanging eyebrows.
'Viney sees the look and hears the words
and, knowing her father, understands the
cause.
"Father," she falters, and beckons to
him from the door. "Father, he comes for
me!'' And she bushes to the roots of her |
pale, dull, brown hair.
Old Saunders looks from one to the
other woman. The elder laughs.
aye amt very complimentary to yer
own daughter, Mr.. Saunders" with a flash
Of all her white, even, pointed teeth.
"What makes ye think tho fellers is all after
me?"
"Come, now, none O. your foolin',"
growls old Saunders, feeling small and
talking large and sitting down to his sup
per. 'Viney brings his cup Of hot tea and
cuts a slice of bread, holding the large loaf
against her slight young figure. Saund-
ers' eyes travel up it slowly, till they rest on
the small sallow face. 'Viney has never
been thought much to look at. But "ef
a%nybody's took a shine to her he ken have
her. Don't want no ole maids round me?
So many ole cats!"
"What's this ere loafer o. your'n do fur
his livin'p' he grunts.
But here 'Viney nee more colors, but
painfully this time, all over her meek feat
ures.
"H'm!'' with a laugh of derision. "Guess
no don't make . niger O. himself! Weddin'
won't DO to-morrer, most likely!"
And Saunders, in solitary enjoyment Of
his delicate joke, shifts his stump OF a black
pipc around to the other corner of his un-
savory, toothless old mouth.
Till, looking like a black eyed fury in
her anger and her loathing, pushes open the
door and stalks out and down the garden
path again.
'Fools! Fools both of them! And more
fool me to have took on with them!"
She opens the gate and lets it carefully
swing to behind her and continues down
the lane a few PAGES. A thick October
mist is rising over the valley. The October
moon hangs in tho sky like a big yellow
lamp swinging between the branches Of
tho tall black pines. There is no sound so
near or far saw the endless rasping and
singing Of the katydids. AS she retraces
her steps O gay looking girl, with features
hard even in the moonlight goes by with a
man.
"Say! Joe's late tonight to see 'viney?"
she asks, and she laughs.
"You shut up!" is the response of Saund-
ers' wife. And she turns in to the gate
with a face blac9er than before.
SHOWS her pop like him?" the other
throws back over her shoulder. And the
sound Of their laughter dies down the road.
When the lights were all out in the house
q night or two later the little attic window
softly opened end 'Viney leaned out. How
still the night vast How thick and soft
the mist! Beyond the valley and the river
the distant rumble of a train. The
moon had crept higher than the highest
pines and was swimming in q silver haze
1Eyt overhead. IL was SO milo 'Vlney Q1o
not feel the night air on her thin, bare
arms, her slim bare neck, girlish and